


Fraught

by FromFanToStan



Series: First Times [8]
Category: One Direction (Band), zayn malik - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Crossdressing Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 12:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18521116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromFanToStan/pseuds/FromFanToStan
Summary: Harry and Zayn enter into the most intense part of their band-era relationship, and by Harry and Zayn I mean "Harry" and "Zayn" because we all know they never talked. Usual disclaimers.





	Fraught

It will be a long time--years--before Zayn admits it to himself and even longer before he admits it to Harry, but during the nine months or so that they are at their most intense Zayn has the best sex of his life.

He thinks at the time that Harry in bed is very similar to Harry on stage--energetic, happy, attentive, uninhibited, fully in the moment, fully in his body. He is a wonderful lover, with a sex drive to match Zayn’s. It energizes Zayn, makes him feel creative sexually and musically. He cannot find a way to get his music into what One Direction is doing, but he takes up scribbling song lyrics and recording voice messages with snatches of melodies, sure for the first time that what he is writing is good.

When he’s not onstage or writing songs, he thinks of inventive ways to get Harry off. He remembers Harry’s reaction to Veronica and buys lacy knickers for himself and for Harry. Harry’s reaction is so enthusiastic that he buys silk stockings, garter belts, chemises, and slips, soft shell pink for Harry and red for him. Harry delights in subverting the traditional sex roles when he is dressed as a girl, and he buys an alarmingly large strap-on that he wears when he has on his lacy things. Only Harry, Zayn thinks, would figure out a way to fold his own dick between his legs inside the lacy pants so that he can wear a strap-on. It hurts a bit, no matter how slowly Harry eases in or how well he’s prepared Zayn, and he’s sore afterwards, making Harry protective and extra gentle with him. It’s incredibly erotic.

Zayn is happy, and he has to tell Perrie why, because she will think the worst of him, given his history. He Skypes with her one night, and after hemming and hawing until she accuses him of cheating again, he finally blurts, “I’m not cheating on you. I mean, not exactly.”

He can see the skeptical look she gives him from across the miles and on the small screen of his phone. “Oi, Zayn, what the fuck does ‘not exactly’ mean?”

“I’ve been with somebody, but it’s only Harry. We’re...we’re having sex. We’re fucking.” He feels relief to have said it, shame to have said “only,” and trepidation at how Perrie will react.

“Actual fucking, like anal, or just hand jobs, or what?” she asks bluntly.

He knew that Perrie would press him, and he hates having to be specific, about anything, really. “Ah, Perrie, you don’t want the details, do you? It’s embarrassing to talk about.”

“It’s also potentially dangerous to me! You’re using protection, are ya?”

Well. That’s a sticky wicket.

Management makes them get tested for STDs every six months or so--imagine!--including an HIV test, so once they have been declared disease free, they stop using condoms. They both love the feel of the other, so why not? Harry says he’s not with anyone else, and Zayn is only with Perrie, which generates the only real talk they have during their short-lived bliss. If Zayn hadn’t been so content with his life, he might have called their discussion an argument.

They were tired after four straight days on a tour bus going from one show to the next. Harry had been unable to exercise properly, and Zayn had been annoyed, not jealous, because he isn’t jealous of Harry, but annoyed when Harry and Louis had talked across him--right across his lap--during a show. They were both teetering on the verge of strops, and finally being alone meant that they could get on with it.

Harry wears his sulkiest expression, which Zayn secretly finds adorable, and as soon as the door closes on his room, he complains, “Why did you act all jealous tonight when I just talked to Louis and it was right in front of you? It’s so stupid, Zayn, like I’m going to flirt with Louis when you’re right there!”

“I wasn’t jealous, and anyway, what do you mean, you wouldn’t flirt with him when I’m right there? So you flirt with him when I’m not?”

“Jesus! I fucking hate it when you do this! NO. That was not what I was saying, and you’re being an asshole. We haven’t had a hotel night in ages”--and Zayn wisely doesn’t interject that it’s been five days--“and now you’re spoiling it.”

“Who’s the one having a fit right now? I didn’t say fuck all to you.”

“Exactly--you haven’t said fuck all since halfway through the show BECAUSE YOU WERE JEALOUS. Why can’t you just admit it? And what gives you the right? You’re with Perrie. I’m just the piece on the side. You’re fucking engaged, after all.” 

He has the little furrow between his brows that only appears when he’s really angry, and his lower lip protrudes; but Zayn can see, because he knows his Harry so well by now, that he’s going to cry soon, and if he cries Zayn will promise him anything to make him stop.

“Babe, quit. It’s not like that. You know it’s PR, the engagement. It was to get a little excitement going for Little Mix. We’ll never actually do it. I couldn’t marry her now.”

“Why not?” Harry looks up at Zayn, and suddenly the question seems loaded with all that they are not saying about their whatever this is. Zayn is unable to speak, can only look at Harry pleadingly, like don’t make me say anything, don’t ask me any more questions.

“I just can’t, Haz. Anyway. I might have been a little bit jealous that you were talking to Louis. He looks well fit these days, and I look a bit shit, don’t I? I’m exhausted and too skinny. I don’t know why you want me.” 

He has, he thinks, avoided the question of feelings, but it is only to fall into the next trap.

“I do, though, you never look shit at all, and I think you should tell Perrie about us. I don’t like feeling like your dirty secret. If it’s all so chill between you, she won’t mind, right?”

Yes. Well. Zayn knows how she feels about him being with other women, because he’s never managed to be faithful for any length of time, not with all the opportunities and with his sex drive being what it is, but he actually doesn’t know how she’ll feel if he tells her he’s having it off with a bandmate.

“Guess I’ll find out. I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“Really?” Harry looks skeptical, but the beginnings of a smile quirk his lips upward slightly. Zayn wants his Harry to be happy, he wants to strip off their clothes and get inventive in bed, and he says yes, of course, I’ll tell her, tomorrow, c’mon babe, let’s stop wasting all this time talking.

They do stop talking, stop doing the thing that they do so poorly, start doing what they do well, and Harry shows he is grateful for Zayn’s promise, Zayn guesses, because he edges Zayn forever, and then when Zayn is reduced to whining helplessly that Harry has to fuck him _now_ , Harry does, slowly and languorously, hitting Zayn’s prostate over and over, slapping Zayn’s hand away from his own cock to take it in his wide palm and long, delicate fingers, maintaining the same rhythm until finally they both can wait no longer and come almost together. And then because Harry is not done with Zayn yet, he licks his way down Zayn’s back to his hole and sucks out his own come.

Zayn thinks he should be disgusted, but he isn’t, he’s aroused, and he takes as much as he can before turning to face Harry and licking into his mouth, tasting Harry’s come, the faint earthy smell of his own ass, and lube. He doesn’t mind any of it. He pulls Harry on top of him. They’re so sweaty that Harry slides around, has to grip Zayn’s forearms to stay in place, but Zayn doesn’t care. He wants him closer.

So when Perrie asks if he’s using protection, he doesn’t answer her directly. He says, “Aw, Perrie, we’re clean, you know we get tested every six months, and anyway you and I use condoms so you don’t get pregnant, so what difference does it make?”

She’s quiet for a minute, and then she says, “Ok, then. Here’s what I think. I think that you are unable to be faithful, which means that I will never want a serious relationship with you. I also think that you need to take a look at your sexuality, like, is it just Harry, or do you like men generally? No, shut up. I don’t want you to answer, because I think you’ll lie. Just--I’m not going to try to be faithful, Z, but I’ll be discreet, and I don’t want to know what you get up to, so keep it out of the tabloids. Right then.” The call ends without a goodbye or I love you, Perrie’s pretty face frozen on the screen.

When he tells Harry that he spoke with Perrie, and she’s okay with it, it’s not exactly a lie.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. If you like the series or this edition, please consider leaving kudos and/or comments.


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